


The Dead Burn Brightest of All

by orphan_account



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Blood, Canonical Character Death, Crime Fighting, F/M, Gen, Spoilers: Volume 3 (RWBY), Technically High School AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 18:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11788944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After the death of his girlfriend, all Jaune wants is to grieve in peace.But the secrets hiding under the surface of his world are restless.And dangerous.





	The Dead Burn Brightest of All

Jaune wasn't a sibling, spouse, or parent, so for the last five minutes of his girlfriend's life, he waited by his phone.

Five hours ago, he, like the rest of Beacon high, huddled underneath desks after gunshots came from the front steps.

Four and a half hours ago, when the all-clear was sounded, he, like the rest of his class, watched Pyrrha Nikos be hauled away on a stretcher.

Four hours ago, he arrived at the hospital.

Three hours ago, he saw how a mother reacts when a doctor says her child has little chance of surviving surgery.

Two hours ago, he was kicked out.

An hour and forty-nine minutes ago, he found a bench.

After five minutes, he received a call from Pyrrha's grandmother, the only member of the family who, through her grief, remembered that Pyrrha had someone else in this world that loved her.

And so for another hour, until the battery on his phone finally died, another voice joined Pyrrha's grieving family.

* * *

 

It wasn't even the goddamn funeral, and Jaune could barely breathe.

The wake was worse, really. The funeral would be after Pyrrha was buried, after the casket was closed forever.

The wake had her body on display. Wrapped up in a white dress, makeup desperately trying to hide the bullet holes that couldn't quite be stitched up.

Jaune staggered to a bench and collapsed. Tears fell freely from his eyes, leaving a damp patch on the carpet beneath him. At other times, he would feel embarrassed, but right now, he didn't give a shit.

It was unfair. It was all so goddamn unfair. Jaune wanted to shake whatever god decided this was right. He wanted to scream into the heavens until his voice went hoarse. He wanted to find whoever did this and make them  _hurt._

He wanted to kiss Pyrrha, more than their simple, chaste peck at the end of their sixth and final date, only two days before the shooting. He wanted to meet her parents without the pallor of black suits and black dresses.

He wanted to walk up to Pyrrha and put a ring on her finger, because he knew now. He got it, okay? He can't wait around. He had to push his life forward before he didn't have one anymore.

He got it.

He learned his lesson.

So wasn't this the point where it ended? Where he jolted upright, rushed to his phone, and realised that this was all just a fucked up dream?

Wasn't it supposed to  _stop?_

"Hey."

Jaune lifted his head. It was Ruby, looking far more natural in black than nearly anyone else in the room. Her hands were clasped tightly behind her back, eyes glistening with shed tears and those yet to fall.

She smiled slightly. "Wanna go eat a bunch of really unhealthy food?"

"…Yeah, sure."

* * *

 

Their state of dress may have earned a few strange looks, but the taste of a greasy burger and a literal mountain of poutine was the first good feeling Jaune had felt that day.

In the other bench of their booth, Ruby had an even larger plate of two burgers, a salad, and a poutine. Her "late-night special," according to the young waitress.

The two ate slowly, mechanically. Not out of disinterest, but simply out of exhaustion. A song played quietly in the background. Jaune didn't know it, but it sounded vaguely fiftiesish.

In the time it took Jaune to finish his burger, Ruby polished both of hers off.

"They're closing the school."

"I know."

"Just… for a week or so. Until the funerals over."

"I know."

Most of the staff would be there, along with ninety percent of the student body, and dozens of other people in the community.

She was too well loved for anything else.

Ruby tapped her fork against the table, setting it down on a napkin. "I saw the shooting."

Jaune's breath froze.

"I… I tried to stop it, I really did, but I wasn't—I didn't realise what was going on until the shots were fired, and then I… I… I had to…"

"It's—it's not your fault," Jaune said, blinking past tears. "Wasn't anything you could have done."

"Yes there was," Ruby insisted. Her voice was filled with a vehemence and sheer energy Jaune knew he couldn't match, so he didn't argue.

"They didn't catch the guy who did it," she continued. "Which is just so—so stupid! I gave them a license plate, and they still can't—"

"Ruby, can we—can we talk about something else? Please?"

Her eyes widened. "Y-yeah, sure. Sorry."

He dragged his mouth into a smile. "It's fine."

Ruby ran her finger around the edge of her glass of coke.

"So, um… that wolf game you got, is it… good?"

"Yeah, it's neat. Nice story."

"Right. That's… that's good."

There was a long pause.

A sharp jangle filled the air. Jaune jumped, his fork clattering to the ground. Ruby merely pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen.

"Oh crap, I gotta go," she said, rising and slapping a wrinkled fifty on the table.

"I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

Jaune nodded.

Ruby smiled, and then ran out the door, fast enough that he could almost swear he felt the wind rush against his skin.

But he didn't.

He was inside. There was no wind.

* * *

 

Jaune's parents were the kind of people that, once you got them talking, wouldn't shut up for another few hours. When the people they were talking to were emotionally pained, you couldn't pry them away with a crowbar.

So when he entered his dark house and stepped into the living/entrance room, he was surprised to see two people cuddled together on the couch, until he realised they were Nora and Ren, two of his friends from school. This wasn't an unusual sight—his parents were cool about friends staying over—but usually, there was a third body waiting for him.

They were huddled in the corner of the couch, hands entwined as they poured over photographs of the four of them. Double dates, Olympic ceremonies, birthdays.

All things they would never have again.

"Hey." He hung his sweater on the coat rack by the door and went to join them. Ren scooted over, Nora twisting so she was sitting on his lap.

The living room couch was spacious, stretching from the far corner to just to the right of the door, forming a half wall to separate the room from the entrance way. The TV hung on the corner opposite the couch, but it was off.

There was a candle flickering on the coffee table. It was the only light.

"You left the wake," Nora said.

"Met up with Ruby."

"Your mom was worried."

"But we knew you were fine," Ren added, glancing meaningfully at Nora.

"I just… needed some air. And food." Jaune reached over and flicked the page, finding a photo of Pyrrha and him at the top of the Calgary tower. Her arm around his shoulder as he stared down, his face green.

Pyrrha wasn't looking down. She was looking at him.

Jaune looked away.

"Are you planning anything tomorrow?" Nora asked. "Because if you're not, that's totally fine. I'm planning a sloth day. I've got the pillows, the snacks, don't know where I'm going to find the costumes, but—"

"Stich and that, Nora. We've already discussed this," Ren said.

Nora wrinkled her nose. "That place smells like mothballs."

"They have moths."

"Exactly!"

Jaune pulled his legs up. "A sloth day sounds great."

Nora smiled wide enough to act as an emergency light. "Fantastic! I'll order the costumes, get the pizza ready, and somebody better tell Pyrrha cause you  _know_ she'll want to see Jaune in a…"

Her smile fell. "Oh… right."

The silence grew thick. It was an extraordinarily uncomfortable silence, but breaking it felt… wrong, somehow.

Jaune reached for the remote on the coffee table and flicked the TV on, wincing at the harsh blue light. It was CBC. In the corner, a clock told him it was almost midnight, but the idea of going to sleep, of trying to blank out his mind enough to actually rest made him ill.

"— _after several days of vocal public outcry, local police have shared details of an ongoing investigation into the death of Pyrrha Nikos, a local teenage Olympian who was shot and killed earlier this week on the steps of her high school._ _"_

"Turn it off," Nora whispered.

Jaune heard her, but he didn't move. He was losing all feeling in his hand as his grip on the remote grew tighter and tighter.

" _Early forensic reports have identified the gun, and connected it to a dozen homicides in the Greater Victoria area. What this means for the case is still unknown, although officials believe_ _—_ _"_

Ren grabbed his hand, almost twisting his wrist. "Jaune, that's enough."

Shaken out of his trance, Jaune quickly flicked the switch. The room went dark again, save for the single, flickering candle.

"…Ruby got a license from the car," Jaune said, his voice rough. "The guy must have blown through a red-light somewhere. They… They can't have  _nothing_ on this bastard."

Nora reached across the couch, but Jaune stood before she could touch him.

"They—they can't—I mean, she's a girl. A young, teenage girl. They—they can't just  _not_ find anything. They have to find  _something!_ _"_

Nora and Ren stood, circling around him like zookeepers approaching a wounded bear. Ren met Nora's eyes, and gave a small nod.

Stepping forward, Nora grabbed Jaune's shoulder, and then pulled him into a tight hug. He felt Ren do the same, slightly to his side.

"Don't do this to yourself," she whispered, pulling him closer. "Please don't do this."

He wasn't quite sure what "this" was, but he could recognise that tone of voice. What it told him about her fears.

He drew his arms around her shoulders.

"Okay."

* * *

 

There was real, tangible problems preventing students from returning to Beacon. The front entrance was a mess of police tape, CSI, and reporters, Bloodstains still lingered on the front steps, and… well, it just felt  _wrong_ to pretend everything was normal.

Jaune understood all of that, and yet, as he stood across the street from said school, some part of him just wanted the first bell to ring. He was woefully unprepared, both physically and mentally, but it would be something to do.

Boredom wasn't usually something people thought of in regards to grief, but Jaune had discovered a very special kind of boredom that could only exist when life went on hold. The kind of boredom that came when you kept chasing away the thoughts you didn't want to have, memory's and thoughts of the future, only to feel like you're trivialising it something when you try to read or play a video game.

Which was why he was out here.

He was going grocery shopping.

It was a bit of a hike from his house, past the school, and up the long hill to the plaza, but he didn't mind. It was nice to get away from four walls and a window, even if it was unseasonably hot.

For the first time in days, he finally had a clear head. A purpose. Even if said purpose was 3% milk, two dozen eggs, pizza sauce and mozzarella.

The walk didn't take long, although he did have a sheen of sweat by the time he entered the air-conditioned grocer. Rattling carts and a man hawking free samples almost drowned out the quiet, forgettable pop music drifting down from the speakers.

He took in a deep breath, and sighed. This was what he needed.

Jaune grabbed a cart and rushed off, grabbing the items on the list with a well-rehearsed efficiency. He'd been given a hundred for this trip, with the permission to use whatever change for his own purposes.

A distant part remembered the pitying look he saw in his father's eye when he handed him the money, but he buried it.

Today, he was just an ordinary kid, doing some shopping for his folks. No tragedy here.

His expedition went by peacefully. The store felt almost deserted, more so as he continued. It didn't surprise him. It was the middle of a workday.

At the till, armed with milk, eggs, sauce, and cheese, (Plus an assortment of chocolate bars and comic books) Jaune entered the only open till behind a young woman in baggy black sweater and shades. The cashier, an elderly lady with glasses, struggled with the women's order, grabbing a handful of cigarette boxes and dumping them on the counter, before opening the cash register and taking out a fifty.

Assuming she was making change, Jaune waited.

She took out another fifty. A handful of fifties, actually.

Then a solid wad of a hundreds.

Then all the twenties.

When she pulled out the tens Jaune realised something wasn't quite right.

He took a step to the left, and saw in the woman's right hand was a small gun, gleaming in the midday sun.

This is when the woman noticed she had an audience. Without moving her gun, she turned to look at Jaune, letting out a sigh.

"Of course. Not only do I get Miss Butterfingers, but a witness."

Jaune gaped, before he remembered that doing so was not a good way to not be shot.

He tried a different tactic. "Are... are you robbing a grocery store?"

The woman sighed again. "Yep."

"But... why?"

She shrugged. "More money than a gas bar."

Well.

Back to gaping.

The woman turned back to the elderly cashier, stepping closer. "Hurry it up grandma. You've got a line."

The cashier tried to speed up, but her fingers were shaking so badly, all she did was drop a dozen bills on the ground.

With her focus lost, Jaune whipped out his phone and starting dialing, getting all three numbers on screen before he felt the cold circular imprint of a gun barrel on his forehead.

"I'm giving you one chance," the woman said, snarling. "Get the fuck out of here, forget you ever saw this, and you can read about this on Facebook. Finish that call..."

She pulled the hammer of the gun back.

Jaune hesitated. He was in a bad position here. Even if he could make the call before she shot him, he wouldn't have time to say where he was, or that there was an actual emergency.

But then, instead of an elderly lady, he saw a young woman behind the till, with red hair and green eyes.

There wasn't a decision to make. Not really.

Jaune pressed the dial button.

" _911, what_ _'_ _s your emergency?_ _"_

"Motherfucker!" The woman swore, turning and grabbing all the cash on the counter.

With the gun pointed away from his head, Jaune babbled the address of the store to the 911 operator, barely remembering to mention said weapon.

That was cut short when the woman turned around, pointing the gun at Jaune.

"Drop the phone," she growled, stepping closer. Distant sirens punctuated every step she took.

Jaune did as she asked, eyeing the cashier. Or, rather, where she'd been standing a few moments ago. At some point in the brief confusion, she'd run off.

Well, at least the only person who could maybe/probably die was him.

That was… better.

Marginally.

The woman grabbed his arms and twisted, pulling them behind his back. He struggled on instinct, but a gun barrel to his neck made him stop.

"I told you," the woman said, her voice shaky. "I fucking told you what would happen, and you did it anyways, you little shit, and now—now I gotta kill you. Fucking hell, I gotta kill you."

Jaune swallowed a lump, trying to keep his voice as steady and not-screamy as possible. "Y-you don't have to do anything. We—we can just walk away from this. Wait for the police, right?"

The gun clattered as it vibrated. "Can't do that. I—I need that money. I need it yesterday, before that crazy bastard finds me."

"What crazy bastard? Is someone after you?" Jaune sensed an opening. "The police can help you! If you tell them you're in danger, they'll—I don't know, put protection on you or something—"

"Shut it!" The woman smacked the gun across his head. Jaune fell to the ground, head rippling with aftershocks of the blow.

The woman stepped up to his head, crouching, and placing the barrel of the gun against his temple. "This is where your story ends, hero."

Jaune closed his eyes.

He didn't flash through every memory of his life. Nor did he see a light. He just had one strong, almost irrelevant thought.

Tomorrow was Pyrrha's funeral.

_BANG!_

For a moment, he thought the sound was the gun. Then he realised that bullets travel significantly faster than it would have taken his brain to think, "Hey, that sounds like a gun going off."

He opened his eyes.

The woman was gone. In her place was glass powder, spread across his clothes and the floor like snow after a blizzard. Wet smacks and cracks filled the room, drowning out the increasingly loud sirens.

Jaune pushed himself up, and looked around.

The woman sat against a shattered till, blood streaming down her face. A figure, short, and wearing a red hoodie, crouched over her prone form.

Her hands, small and seemingly feminine, were coated with blood.

As he watched, the figure struck again, earning a splatter of blood against the computer screen and a loud  _crunch_ as he saw the woman's jaw shatter.

Jaune scrambled to his feet, ignoring the droplets of blood falling from his hand.

"Holy shit," he gasped, stumbling backwards against the broken window. He fell through, catching his leg on the glass and tripping, falling towards the ground—

Only for a gush of wind to rush past him, and two strong, yet surprisingly small and thin arms grabbing his shirt and yanking him to his feet. This put Jaune face to… shorter face with the figure.

The hoodie was well-worn, but also well cared for, with numerous tight stiches across the front and back of the chest. The figure's face was obscured by a pair of red-lensed swimming goggles, with black frames and straps, and a checker-board styled scarf.

To the outfit's credit, it took Jaune nearly five seconds of staring before he figured it out.

"Ruby?"

She jumped back, hands held stiffly by her sides. She coughed, and when she spoke. It was with a very,  _very_ slight hint of gravel. "W-what? W-who? I'm—I'm not Ruby, Ja—Mr. Citizen! I'm… a dude!"

"Are you trying to do the Batman voice? Because you can't. You can't do the Batman voice."

"I totally can, shut up." Ruby paused, and then smacked herself in the forehead, her hood falling down and exposing her hair.

Jaune stared at his friend. His short, thin-armed, cookie devouring friend, and turned to the obliterated glass, the destroyed till, and the  _thoroughly_ unconscious would-be robber.

"What the hell. What the actual, freaking, hell."

"Uh…"

Jaune turned, and stepped forward, pointing towards the store. "Did you-? How did-? Glass—Gun—what?"

The sirens grew even closer, loud enough for Jaune to tell which street they were traveling on.

Ruby glanced away, and then  _appeared_ in front of him with a gush of wind. "Don't tell anyone, okay? I gotta go. I'll come by later and tell you more, I promise, but please, don't tell anyone!"

And then she was gone. No warning, no lightning, just another rush of wind… and a face full of rose petals.

Jaune spat one onto the sidewalk, watching as it dissolved seconds before the cop cars parked at the edge of the road.

* * *

 

The police only asked a few questions when they first arrived, namely "Are you hurt?", "Where is the shooter?" and "What the hell happened to the window?"

After they secured the woman, a police officer asked him the rest. Jaune stuck to the truth as much as possible, leaving out only the identity of the mysterious stranger who saved his life.

He didn't miss the officer's lack of surprise when he mentioned that.

His mom showed up a few minutes later, and after the officer warned him he could be called in as a witness, he was allowed to go home.

The evening felt surreal. Mom fussed over him, wrapping his hands in piles of bandage and changing them every time they started to turn pink, and even bringing him chilled water after she set him up in front of the TV.

Not that his father was much better, as he just… held him, crying into his shoulder for hours before supper was ready and they finally had to spilt apart.

It was… awkward, yes, Jaune couldn't deny that, but at the same time, he was grateful.

There was nothing like near death to make you desire time with family.

Still, he was somewhat happy when it got late, and he had an excuse to hide out in his room until Ruby came.

And so he did.

Doing nothing but thinking on his bed, still wearing the same jeans and sweater he wore the rest of the day.

The room's relative plainness helped with that. The walls had a few tasteful posters, and a few knick-knacks from various video games and comics lay scattered across his desk, but there was little in the way of distractions.

It was nice, almost. The sheer insanity of the past few hours had finally, truly cleared his head of Pyrrha—damn it.

He couldn't deny it. Today, he almost died, and a part of him wished he did. Not out of depression, but simply for the slight chance Jaune could meet up with her again.

That wasn't what he wanted. Yes, he missed her, and would do anything to be with her again, but that didn't extend to death. It truly, honestly didn't.

But he could have.

Jaune never understood how anyone could be ready to die. The world always seemed so big to him, always changing and growing becoming more wonderful by the day. He just couldn't imagine ever wanting to leave it.

Now he could.

And that thought scared him, so he chased it away and reveled in the serenity, before his head got dragged back to Pyrrha and then onto death and the whole cycle repeated until he heard the clatter of rocks against his window.

He stood, walked to the window, and waited until he was sure Ruby wasn't going to throw another before he opened it.

"Jaune?" Ruby's whispered voice called out.

"Yep."

A gust forced Jaune back. Dirt scratched at his eyes, blinding him. By the time he cleared them, Ruby stood by his window.

She still had the same hoodie he saw earlier, but she'd ditched the glasses and scarf, and wore a pair of Scooby-Doo pajama bottoms.

Jaune stood staring for several minutes, watching as Ruby did the same.

Finally, she spoke. "Um… you doing okay? A-after that crazy girl, not—not the other thing, although if you want to talk to someone about it, I'm here, but you probably don't—"

"I'm fine."

Ruby blinked. "Oh. That's good! Great!"

Jaune sat on the edge of his bed. "So, you said you'd explain some stuff?"

Ruby shot a scowl at his bedroom door. "Yeah, I did, but maybe we could do it somewhere else?"

Jaune shrugged. "Got a place in mind?"

"Pretty much." Ruby paused. "It's a bit far—not by my standards, so, I was thinking… I could just carry you?"

"Carry me? But, you have super speed, right?"

"Um, yes? I've never measured but, yeah, I'm pretty fast."

"As in, light me on fire fast?"

"I—I've never lit myself on fire, so—"

"I saw a show once that had a guy with super speed, and he ran with a lady he rescued, and once he stopped she threw up everywhere and it was gross—"

"Okay, Jaune, I get your point—"

"And then there was this YouTube video of that, except instead of throwing up, her neck was broken and her face was ripped off—"

"Let's take the bus."

* * *

 

The bus dropped them off not near Ruby's house, as Jaune half-expected, nor near an abandoned warehouse or cave. Instead, he was brought to the edge of a forest, the smell of ocean and seaweed thick on the late night air.

Ruby went in first, brushing aside a bush, revealing a small but well-worn path. Jaune followed behind, keeping pace as well as he could, given how effectively the tree's blocked out the moon's light.

Ruby didn't talk, although she glanced back several times. Whether it was to keep an eye on him or ensure they weren't being followed, Jaune wasn't sure, but he wouldn't bet against the second one. He'd never seen Ruby this intense before.

At the end of the path was a clearing, with hard-packed dirt and sparse grass. The moon shined strongly, easily bright enough to see by.

Ruby stepped forward and to the side, turning to him and revealing three figures, who stood as he came into the light.

He recognised all three of them, although with varying degrees of familiarity. Yang was in the centre, wearing a thick leather jacket that hid her figure as well as any mortal fabric could. On her left was Weiss, arms crossed over a light jacket as she eyed him with a glare designed to cut through mountains.

At the right end was Blake. She was new to the school, quickly becoming friends with Weiss, Ruby and Yang while keeping her distance from everyone else. The rest of his knowledge was limited to her black and grey striped toque, which she wore everywhere, at all times. She must have a doctor's note for it, since the teachers never even asked her to take it off.

Ruby gave him a

Jaune frowned. "You didn't say anything about anyone else."

Yang chuckled. "Rubes didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Ruby rubbed the back of her neck, turning to her sister. "I, uh, thought it would be best to tell him together. You know? Do it once and all that?"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Like it's really that difficult to explain."

"I'm still not convinced we should be telling him in the first place," Blake said, her voice a little… different from what Jaune expected. Less… gravely.

He hadn't actually heard her talk all that much.

"Relax. Jaune's a total klutz, but he's a good klutz. He's not gonna sell us out." She paused. "Unless he's tortured, but we're all fucked by then anyways."

"Sell out what?" Jaune asked. "Why are you all here?"

Ruby turned back to him, meeting his eyes. "Cause… they've got super powers too."

Jaune stared at her for a full minute.

Then he looked at the others.

Yang gave a wave.

He turned back to Ruby. "Is this why no one can beat you in dodgeball?"

She nodded solemnly.

"Okay," he said, and fell butt first onto the ground.

"Holy shit," he whispered. "Holy fucking shit."

"Yeah, he won't be telling anyone," Blake said. "Nothing's going to rattle his nerves."

Weiss glared at her. "He was nearly  _killed_ today. Perhaps you take that into account before you start dismissing him."

"So, wait a minute." Jaune stood. "You're all like Ruby? A-are you fast like she is? Do you spew rose petals or—"

"No, that's just her," Yang said. "I mean, we're all pretty fast, but she's in a different level."

Weiss spoke next. "We all have different… peculiarities. Ruby's fast. Blake can, for the lack of a better word, clone herself, although they're more like short lived projections, and I…" she paused. "Mine's weird."

"She makes these weird snowflake things that you can step on and stuff," Ruby explained.

"We're all pretty tough," Yang continued. "This one time, Ruby was going too fast, and she crashed into a building, and there was rocks and bricks everywhere. I thought she was dead or something, but she just walked away. Glowing red, but fine. Don't know if we're bullet proof or anything—"

Blake interrupted, "We are. Or I am, at least."

Yang turned to her. "Really? Tested that, or…"

Blake squirmed. "Long story. Several long stories."

"Huh. Neat." She turned back to Jaune. "Anyways, that's pretty much it. We all glow sometimes, although I'm gold, Weiss is White and Blake is black, of course. We've all got crazy strength, and uh… anything else?"

Ruby shook her head.

Jaune stood there for a long, long time, running over everything he just heard in his head.

"So… Ruby, when you said you could have done something about… about Pyrrha, you… you actually meant it."

"Jaune—" Yang growled, stepping forward. Weiss shot out an arm, stopping her.

Ruby looked away. "There was… a lot I coulda done. Should have done."

Jaune felt his hands curl into fists, beyond his control. "So why didn't you? Why didn't you stop it? Or bring her to a hospital or—or something!"

"I—I couldn't—I'm fast, but I-I didn't see the gun until it was shot and then…" Ruby paused. "P-people were watching. I—I couldn't just—"

"You let Pyrrha die to protect your  _fucking_ secret identify? Are you serious?"

Ruby opened her mouth, but it Weiss spoke first. "She wasn't just protecting herself; she was protecting all of us."

"So what?" Jaune asked, stomping forward. "So what if people found out? You're bullet proof, what could anyone do to you?"

"Lots of things," Yang said. "Think about it. We're living weapons. Strong enough to break bones with a twitch. Can you imagine what the government would do if they found out about us? How far they'd go to get us?"

She stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. Her voice softened. "I'm not saying Ruby made the right choice here. Maybe—maybe she should have saved Pyrrha, damn the consequences for us. But she didn't, and maybe that was the right choice. I don't know. But I do know that she's been crying whenever she thinks I can't hear. Remember that."

Jaune grit his teeth, but the tension in his hands faded.

"Okay, he said, stepping back.

"Ruby, I'm—I'm sorry for even suggesting any of that. I know you wanted to help. I know you tried. I just—"

"I get it," Ruby said.

Jaune smiled softly.

The anger gone, Jaune realised just how exhausted he was. He simply had no energy left to do anything, beyond turning around and heading back into the forest.

"Where you going?" Yang asked.

"Home," Jaune replied. "I'm not telling anyone."

"Good," Yang said.

"Wait, Jaune!" Ruby called. "There's still something I wanted to talk to you about—"

"No. No, no, no and no. You're not drawing him into this."

"Yang! He deserves to know this stuff!"

Jaune let the argument fade into the background as he followed the pathway back to the road. His head did a marvelous job helping him, swimming with thoughts about what he just learned.

Once the shock had worn off, he found that he wasn't all that surprised that they all had superpowers. The four of them had always led the way in Gym, frequently accomplishing whatever task they'd been assigned.

It also explained why Ruby always seemed so tired, if she was doing the superhero thing and patrolling the city.

Near the road, Jaune's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar gust of air and another cloud of rose petals, this time behind him and not in his mouth.

"Jaune, hold up!"

He turned, seeing Ruby standing on the path covered in leaves.

"Um."

She shrugged. "Happens sometimes."

"…Right."

"Anyways, look. I've… I've been doing some digging into Pyrrha's case."

Jaune looked away. "Ruby…"

"Listen! That woman from today? I recognised her. She was in the car during the shooting, in the driver's seat. I didn't see the other guy, but I bet she knows who he is! She's in police custody, but I was going to break in and talk to her. I… I thought maybe you'd want to come with?"

Jaune blinked slowly. "Ruby, We-we can't do that. The police are handling it. We should let them do their and—and get justice for Pyrrha."

"Are you saying you  _don_ _'_ _t_ want to find the bastard who killed her?"

He looked away. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. It doesn't matter. Going vigilante and getting revenge—that's not how Pyrrha would want us to do this."

Ruby went silent, clutching her hands into tight fists.

Jaune turned away and began to walk.

"You don't know what it was like when this started," Ruby said, causing Jaune to turn to look. "I woke up like this one day, suddenly so much stronger and faster. I couldn't get a paper cut, or a burn, or even stub my toe. And that's great! It's amazing, it's what anyone would want… but no one else did. It was just me and Yang, in our own little pile."

"I was twelve years old, and I kept wondering if I was even human. Or if I was some kind of monster, a freak. Something that would go crazy and hurt everyone I love."

She paused. "I like doing what I do. Hurting people who hurt others. I… I wish I could say it's because I'm helping people, but sometimes… I don't know."

Jaune stepped back.

Ruby continued. "So, yeah, maybe a part of this is about revenge. But these people killed Pyrrha. They need to be brought to justice. I can take them down, and I can make sure they never hurt anyone again."

The forest was silent for several long minutes, aside from the occasional rumble of a passing car.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Jaune said. "Do you want me to say yes? No?" He paused. "Do you want me to stop you?"

Ruby looked away. "I just thought you deserved the chance to come with. That's all." She smiled. "Besides, I could use an Oracle!"

Jaune snorted at that. "I've got too many working legs for that."

"Heh, true."

He tapped the side of his thigh. "Are you… are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jaune. Really. Just been a long week."

"Yeah, I get that."

Another pause.

A sharp squeal of metal on metal from behind Jaune reminded him of the bus he had to catch if he wanted to make it home before the sun rose.

Ruby glanced towards the road. "I'll—I'll see you around."

Jaune nodded.

Ruby smiled weakly, and then she was  _gone._

Leaving a pile of petals that, thanks to a sudden wind change, covered him head to toe.

Jaune spat out a rose petal, and then ran to board the bus.

* * *

 

"And you're sure that's what she said?"

Jaune swallowed, glancing at the officer sitting behind the desk he was stuck in front of. His mom gave his shoulder a tight squeeze, but said nothing.

He was more surprised than he should have been to get the call that morning. For a few minutes, he'd thought it was about Ruby, but it was just a check-up. A chance for a more experienced detective to go over the robbery from yesterday.

They weren't in an interrogation room; instead, they were brought to the office of the detective in charge of their case. He was a tall man, with thick arms hidden quite well by a striped shirt and over coat. Deep bags hung under his eyes, standing brightly against his graying beard, seemingly a product of many sleepless nights rather than grooming.

Jaune swallowed again, and this time managed to speak. "Um, yeah, she—she said that, um, a…" he glanced towards his mom. "A "crazy bastard" was after her or something."

Huck pursed his lips. "She didn't mention a name, or any descriptive details?"

Jaune shook his head.

Huck sighed. "I figured."

"Um, if—if I'm allowed to ask, why haven't you just asked her?"

"We can't," Huck said. He narrowed his eyes. "The guy who saved you put her into a coma. Doctors aren't sure if she'll ever wake up."

Jaune's blood ran cold. "Oh."

Huck looked to his mom. "Well, thank you for your time. I think that's all the questions we have for today."

"I hope so," Mom, rising and pushing her chair in. "Today—today wasn't a good time for this."

Huck grimaced. "I'm aware, but… there are elements of this case that are time sensitive."

Mom frowned. "At least it's done. Come on Jaune, your suit's in the car. We'll have to find a place to change…"

Jaune followed his mom, but at the door to the office, he hesitated.

His mom continued walking, until she realised he was no longer following.

Jaune turned to the detective.

"Um, Mr. Huck, sir?"

Huck lifted his head to look at him. "Yes?"

Jaune paused, thinking.

"I… I might have, maybe seen the woman before."

Huck's eyes narrowed. "Really? Where?"

His nerve faltered, but Jaune powered through. "On—on the day that… the shooting happened at the school, I… I might have seen a car and… I think she might have driving it."

"A car? The shooters car? Are you sure?"

"Um, no. Not—not really."

Huck frowned. "Damn. Not much of lead if we don't have confirmation, but… thanks. Every little bit helps."

"Yeah." Jaune turned his head. "I should go."

"Probably. Stay safe out there, kid."

"I'll do my best."

Somehow, Jaune knew that was a lie.

* * *

 

The funeral was about as pleasant as he expected it.

The whole class showed up. Dozens of kids, most of whom knew Pyrrha only through reputation. They sat in the middle, just in front of the reporters and camera men.

At the front was those who knew her best, sitting on cheap chairs on matted grass in front of a tombstone and a hollowed out hole. The sky was an indifferent gray, an early morning wind setting a deep chill into Jaune's bones, despite the many layers his suit offered.

Then again, he wasn't sure the chill came from the weather.

A balding priest, one he didn't know but was apparently quite close to Pyrrha, plodded through his speech with the air of a man who'd done this far too many times.

He went on about her accomplishments, the "incredible young woman she'd become." At several moments, he paused, leafing through the pages in front of him like he didn't quite believe it.

Jaune liked to think that in those moments, he remembered how old the body he was burying was. How many more things she could have done.

Her family, stretching from his left to the end of the seats, clearly didn't need any reminders. Every time he brought up her athletics, or her grades, another fresh cycle of tears started. They weren't balling their eyes out, but they were…

Hurting.

Jaune ignored the speech. He didn't do it on purpose, but he couldn't focus on anything other than the coffin, suspended over the hole by thick nylon ropes attached to a metal brace around the hole. The glossy redwood surface was plain, aside from a lining of brass around the lip.

It was almost beautiful.

Finally, the old man tired of his speech, and stepped aside. Pyrrha's family stood, and like a slow wave, made their way to the casket.

Pyrrha's mom, a tall woman with graying red hair, crouched down, staring at the side of the casket for a long moment, before she pressed a switch on the bracing.

The casket slowly began to fall.

Sometimes, when people don't want to do something, they feel a small voice reminding them that, if they don't do it, they'll regret it for the rest of their lives.

That voice made Jaune stand and run, arriving just before the casket left his sight.

Forever.

* * *

 

He stood there for hours, long after everyone else left.

A patch of freshly disturbed dirt reminded him when he'd picked up a shovel and went to work. A vase of flowers reminded him that he forgot to bring some.

The name, Pyrrha Nikos, reminded him why he was here.

He'd never really forgotten. He tried to pretend. Sometimes he could distract himself. But it always came back to her. To what was missing.

But he'd never seen it in writing before.

This was her tombstone.

Pyrrha's tombstone.

It had a date. 2000-2017.

Just seventeen years.

There was more text, some flowery descriptions about loving daughter or something, but Jaune couldn't quite make it out.

He'd seen her body before. Hell, he had to leave the fucking wake because of that, but seeing her tombstone… reading those words.

The past week had felt like a dream. He knew it wasn't, but his body refused to believe that. Refused to truly accept it.

But this…

This was in writing.

In stone.

Pyrrha was dead.

It hit him like a lead weight square in the chest. He couldn't talk, couldn't breathe, could barely stay standing.

Pyrrha was dead.

Three months ago, she told him about her crush. How long she'd loved him for just talking to her. For ignoring her Olympian status and just… caring for her.

They went on a date the same day.

Nora laughed the next time she saw them, hands entwined when they came over for their weekly movie night, before giving him a giant hug.

His love for her grew faster and stronger than anything he'd ever experienced. She was his best friend, the person he could tell anything too, and more. She'd always listen; always give him advice, or comfort. And he'd always do the same.

How was a bunch of granite supposed to replace that?

He heard a twig snap and turned, expecting to see Ruby or another latecomer. Instead, a lady approached him.

She was tall, and walked with the stride of someone who still had most, but not all of their youthful energy intact. Her long, shiny grey hair parted on her right, revealing a ruby earing. Her face had wrinkles, but anyone could see she was still quite beautiful.

The long, simple black dress she wore seemed almost out of place on her, were it not for the tombstones flanking every step she made.

"Jaune," she said, with the same measured voice that, several days ago, told him the worst news he'd ever receive.

He cleared his throat. "H-hey."

She stepped closer to him, briefly brushing shoulders.

"It's finally sinking in, isn't it?"

He nodded.

She sighed. "The last time I came here was to bury my husband—her grandfather. I… I hoped I would be the next."

Jaune said nothing. He was afraid he would agree.

She put a hand on top of the stone, brushing away a dandelion seed. "Pyrrha didn't leave a will. I don't think she thought of it."

Turning, she said, "But before she died, she told me that if anything happened to her, if she… died, that I should give you this." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a brown disk, passing it to Jaune.

It was heavy, clearly metal, and said in faded metal script, "2006 SportZ club winner!"

"This is…"

"Her first medal ever," she said proudly. "Oh, she loved that thing so much. Never cared for the gold and silver, but that copper piece of junk…"

Jaune tightened his grip until his knuckles went white. "This… this belongs with her family."

Pyrrha's grandmother shook her head. "She gave me very specific instructions. This was for you. She said…" her eyes turned cloudy. "You were the only one she trusted with it."

Despite everything, his heart gave a flitter at that.

He jumped when her hand fell onto his shoulder.

"I understand how… horrible it must feel right now. How cruel and unfair the world seems. But... since you and her got together, my granddaughter was happier than she had ever been. She was almost glowing, simply would not stop talking about you…"

"Uh."

She smiled. "If Pyrrha had to die, at least… at least she died knowing she was loved in a way few people are ever blessed to know."

Jaune looked away, pocketing the medal. It settled against his thigh, the coolness a constant reminder of its presence.

He swallowed, turning back to Pyrrha's grandmother. "I, um, never caught your name."

She smiled. "Andrea. You can call me Andrea."

"Andrea," Jaune repeated, testing the name on his tongue. "C-can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

Jaune's mouth went dry. He closed it, licked his lips, and tried to think through what he wanted to say.

"I found out, recently, that one of my friends, she's more… dangerous than I thought she was. Than I thought anyone could be. I realised that she's something I've… never experienced before."

He stared at the tombstone, eyes lingering on her name.

"She told me that she… she could find the person who did this. She could find them and… bring them to justice. Or avenge Pyrrha." He paused. "I'm not sure which one she actually meant."

"…I'm not sure what you're asking."

"She asked for my help," Jaune admitted. "She wanted me to—to do something to help her. I said no. I said… I said it wasn't what Pyrrha would have wanted, but I… I don't really know. What would she want? Does that even matter now? Is it… right?"

Andrea pursed her lips. She turned and stared at the tombstone long enough that Jaune thought she wasn't going to answer.

"Do you want to do it?"

Jaune blinked. "I—I can't, it's not—"

"I'm not asking if you can or should, just… do you want to?"

Jaune paused, thinking it over.

Thinking of Pyrrha's lifeless body.

Of the blood on the stairs.

The promise he made to Nora.

"…I don't know."

Andrea sighed. "That's the question you need to answer before you figure out if you should."

Jaune bit his lip.

"I'm not sure I want to find out."

* * *

 

Nora and Ren were two booths down from where he and Ruby ate after the wake.

They sat across from each other, menu's filling the space between. Ren had an open space next to him. Nora theoretically had the same, but that was before she flailed her arms to go with her talking/eating/doing anything other than breathing.

So Jaune sat next to Ren.

The diner was packed, filled with office workers and other downtown making their way home after a long day. Five waitresses bustled from table to table, almost dancing under the warm orange lights.

Ren handed him a menu silently, meeting his eyes.

They'd planned to meet here, after the funeral, as a minor friendly toast to Pyrrha, between her close friends. It was supposed to have started an hour ago, but between his talk with Andrea and general getting lost-ness, he was late.

Very late.

Ren wasn't annoyed of course. Just worried.

Jaune pointedly ignored that, ordering a chocolate milkshake when the waiter came around. He wasn't sure if it would fill his stomach, but he didn't want to eat any actual food.

After the waiter took her order and walked off, Nora chuckled.

"She'd be so pissed at you if she knew how many times you'd been here this week," she said, staring at Jaune.

He managed a small chuckle. "Probably."

After that, the table was silent.

For about ten seconds, at which point Nora leaned forward, folding her arms on top of the table.

"So, I heard from a little birdy who heard from a big bird—not that big bird, although he was pretty tall—that you were involved in something pretty big yesterday."

"Nora," Ren warned, laying a hand on Jaune's shoulder, before turning to face him.

"You don't have to tell us anything," he said.

Jaune shrugged. "It's… fine, really. Nothing really happened. Some girl wanted money, had a gun, so she tried to rob a store and… I just got really unlucky."

Nora tilted her head. "So… the girl they hauled out of there on a stretcher? That was you being unlucky?"

Jaune coughed. "Um, no. That—that was…"

Oh god, what should he say? Should he just tell her Ruby busted through a window, put someone into a coma and thereby saving his life?

Okay, yeah no.

Jaune cleared his throat, and decided to go with the same semi-lie he told the police. "Some guy, or girl or whatever in a hoodie kinda busted through the window, and then punched the woman with the gun until there was blood everywhere and then… yeah."

Nora leaned back, eyes blown wide. "Wow… that sounds… awesome."

Ren coughed.

"Oh! And, um, horrifying! And scary, and super dangerous, and, I mean, wow that was really bad timing—"

"Indeed."

"—but awesome."

Ren sighed.

Jaune chuckled. "It wasn't… too bad, I guess. Scary at the time, yeah, but… I don't know. Could have been worse."

Ren nodded solemnly. "Much, much worse."

Eventually, their orders came. Milkshake for Jaune, double cheeseburger for Nora, an "I am missing the point of this restaurant" salad for Ren, and water for all three.

The only thing missing was a fourth plate.

No one spoke until Jaune finished his milkshake, and Nora dusted off her entire plate, burger, fries, and a syrup packet she somehow found.

"Ruby thinks they're connected," he said, wincing the moment the words tumbled out of his mouth. This wasn't  _the_ secret, yes, but this wasn't something he should be going around telling people.

He told the police, yes, but that was a bit different from blurting it out in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

Nora looked at him strangely. "Really? The robbery and… like, how? Same gun or something?"

Jaune hesitated.

Ah, screw it. In for a penny, in for a few thousand dollars.

"She recognised the woman. Said that she, ah, saw her driving away from the school shortly after it… happened."

"Odd. Everyone was supposed to be inside."

"I guess she wasn't," Jaune said, sipping at his empty cup. "I mean, she's not sure—in fact, she's probably wrong! But, um, the woman did… say something."

"What?" Nora asked, ignoring a pointed glare from Ren.

"That she needed the money to… get away from someone," Jaune answered. "She seemed scared."

"Well, I'd be pretty scared of some random nut who goes around shooting people too," Nora said.

"Maybe."

Ren, finally finishing his salad, pushed his plate away. "It won't matter. Whoever she's afraid of, the police will catch him. That's a surety.

"Let's hope so," Jaune said, shimmying out of the booth and letting Ren out.

"They will," Nora said, and, for a moment, Jaune truly believed her.

Then he remembered Ruby, and a trickle of doubt crawled back.

"Unless someone else gets to him first…"

* * *

 

Of course, shortly after parting ways with Ren and Nora, Jaune found himself standing at the foot of the stairs leading to Beacon academy's large oak doors.

There was no lingering blood stains on the stone. No broken windows or pockmarked bricks. You couldn't tell with sight that someone died here. That a life was ripped from this world in a hailstorm of bullets.

But you could still feel it. The air was oppressive, pressing down and questioning every step you made. It was like trespassing on holy ground, wrong on a multitude of levels.

But Jaune needed to be here.

He needed to see where it all started—and ended.

On Monday, they would reopen the school. Classes would resume. Life would, in some way, return to normal.

It was good. People needed normal now, more than ever. Jaune thought it was great.

He just wished normal could be somewhere else.

He didn't want to walk up these steps, wondering where her blood used to be.

He didn't want to stare at walls, searching for the plaster that covered up holes.

Perhaps most of all, he didn't want to leap up the stairs, anxiety forgotten in favour of a late bell, or to sit here one day, pulling out a lunch before his brain reminded him of what happened here.

Jaune would move on, eventually. But this building wasn't his future. It was a reminder of the past. A relationship of years, of misunderstood signals and painful waiting.

Beacon was where he and Pyrrha were friends. Not where Pyrrha was dead.

He sighed, brushing a foot against the stone.

There wasn't a choice in the matter, not for him. This was his school, for better or for worse. He had to go here. And, yes, he didn't really want to leave the classes, his remaining friends, or his teachers.

But he could do without the stairs.

Jaune turned and walked off, hanging a left onto his street. A sign for a nature reserve shined brightly under the early night moon, proudly reminding him of the trail available to anyone who wanted to go look at a lake for a few hours.

He ignored it and continued on, traveling down the street until he reached the cul-de-sac that held his house. Trenching down the road and then up the driveway, (it was real fun when wet) Jaune reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, fitting them into the door—

Only for it to swing open.

Startled, Jaune checked the driveway. Both of his parent's cars were gone—likely still at the adult toast he'd skipped earlier.

It was possible they'd forgotten to lock it. And the door didn't always latch unless you threw some shoulder into it.

That must have been it.

Sighing, Jaune entered the house, shutting and locking the door behind him. He flicked a light as he collapsed on the couch, not even bothering to remove his shoes.

Today was exhausting, and he had a suspicion tomorrow wasn't going to be any easier.

Jaune fumbled around the coffee table for the remote, using it to turn the TV on and switch it to some reality show about driving or something. He didn't really pay attention to it. He just shut his eyes and let the noise guide him to sleep.

Until he heard a footstep.

Jaune cracked an eye open, expecting to see his parents, or Nora, or even Ruby.

Instead, he saw a silencer.

Instinct took over. He rolled off the couch seconds before he heard a sharp bang. Stuffing and fake leather flew out, a few clumps landing in his mouth.

They tasted of gunpowder.

Jaune dove under the table, scuttling away from the couch. Another shot rang out, ripping through the wood and just  _barely_ missing his chest.

Out from under the table, Jaune stood, getting his first look at his attacker.

He was tall, nearly a head taller than he was. Strands of grey hair dangled over a pair of expensive sunglasses, going with the thin layer of facial hair surrounding his mouth.

And he had his gun trained straight on his head.

Veins burning with adrenaline, Jaune did the only thing he could think of.

He tackled him.

The man fired again, and this one did connect, cutting through the top of his shoulder and hitting again on his heel, but it wasn't enough to stop Jaune—all one-eighty pounds—from connecting with his stomach, forcing both to the ground.

The man's head hit the ground with a large crack. Jaune pressed his advantage, jumping to his feet and running.

It wasn't fast enough to escape the man's next shot, this one tearing through the muscle on his lower lug. A sharp lance of pain tore through his body, but he kept moving. The pain faded after a few moments.

Distantly, he realised he was going into shock. It was a good thing, considering his odds of dying from shock were considerably lower than his odds of dying from bullets in his head.

Jaune tore through the kitchen, ripping open the front door and racing onto the backyard. He didn't dare look back, but he could hear heavy footsteps as his attacker raced after him.

As he reached the end of the yard and entered the back alley, Jaune reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, dialling nine-one-one as fast as he possibly could-

His phone fell from his grip as his leg gave out, blood spurting against the dirt. Jaune fell, head bouncing off the rocky road as he pushed hard on his thigh, reducing the flow of blood to a tribble.

But that wasn't really the problem.

He looked up.

The man didn't look like a killer. He looked like a homeless man, with dark, scratchy pants and a shirt that'd seen a few too many days unwashed.

But the gun in his hands, black and sleek, the way his hands flew across its surface as he reloaded it—those spoke of a professional.

He stopped at his head; eyes hidden behind those shades as he coolly pointed the gun straight at his temple. Jaune felt the silencer push against his ear.

His breath hitched.

The man paused.

"For what it's worth, I made it quick."

Jaune never had a chance to ask what he meant.

_BANG!_

This time, Jaune saw the red and black blur that was Ruby crash into his would-be killer, saving his life at the last possible second.

The man went flying, skidding along the ground until he crashed into a car on the opposite side of the road.

Ruby flew to his side.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, before her eyes landed on his leg. "Right. Stupid question."

Her arm snaked under his and pulled him up. Jaune gasped as a fresh bolt of pain lanced up his leg, but to his surprise, it did hold him up.

It also bleed profusely the moment he removed his hands, but, you know, guy trying to kill him.

Ruby glanced over him. "You need a hospital."

Jaune groaned. "N-not arguing."

Of course, just as he said that, more bullets screamed past him. Ruby lashed out, blocking most from reaching him—proving that she was, in fact, bullet proof—before she pulled him to a car a block down the street.

"Okay, okay, that—that works. I'll just take you in hops, yeah. We'll get there, right Jaune? Jaune?"

Jaune tried to listen. He really did. But the ground kept shifting from side to side, and his leg hurt so, so much.

Maybe it would be better to sleep. He was oh so tired, after all.

"No no no. Don't pass out, please don't pass out. Just—just stay with me? Okay? Oh, you're not listening. Okay, I'm just going to go. Please be alive. Oh god, please be alive…"

Jaune felt himself come to rest over someone's shoulders. He smiled dumbly.

It must be Pyrrha, he thought in his last, flickering gasp of consciousness.

He fell into the gentle embrace of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... this happened.  
> ...Yeah.  
> In case you didn't read the original story--which I don't blame you for, I wrote it in four hours while slightly feverish/bored--the basic idea in this story is that it's in our world, or a very, very close version of it, with all RWBY characters, but only the members of team RWBY have their aura and semblances.  
> Well, that was the original idea, but now it also involves assassins, so, who knows where it'll go.  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy reading this. I'm gonna go cross my fingers and hope this is a good story instead of word vomit.


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